Shahin
by SilkYuzu
Summary: Things always go from bad to worse for the smart-mouthed teenage boy Roi, so getting mixed up with Abstergo shouldn't have been a suprise. Now in 1191 AD and in the company of assassins, Roi must learn his place in the world, while trying to save it.
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It didn't take a genius to figure out that a storm was brewing. Even a high school student who happened to be gazing out of his last period history class could figure that out by noticing the dark clouds that were piling on top of each other creating ominous mountains in the sky. There was that feeling in the air that one can only feel before lighting strikes; when the air is charged and the hairs on one's arm stand up. The feeling caused adrenaline to pump, and even though he was crammed in the too-bright class room in a hard desk, the boy felt exhilarated. Something was going to happen, and if it was for better or for worse he couldn't tell.

Roi found it hard to pay attention to the material they were learning in class, and no matter how hard he tried, his eyes would wander back to the mounting storm clouds. The hairs on his arms were indeed standing up slightly, and there was that faint prickly sensation on the back of his neck. He waited for the bell to ring with no small amount of impatience, and nearly sprang out of his seat startling a few other students when it finally did.

He had _almost_ made his way out of the door when his teacher's sharp voice called him back. "Roi! A word please."

Begrudgingly, Roi made an about face by spinning on his heels and walked over to his teacher's desk. Looking up at his teacher, the teen put a hand on his hip, "What?"

The teacher, Mrs. Renolds, shuddered for a moment when her student made direct eye contact with her. It was something that Roi had always done, but that didn't change the fact that it always unnerved her because the teen's eyes were the most peculiar shade of blue she'd ever seen. No, they weren't the casual blue that one usually matched with blonde hair; they were almost washed out and pierced her like laser beams under his disapproving gaze. Shaking the feeling off, Mrs. Renolds reached into her desk and pulled out two pieces of stapled paper, "Recognize this?"

"Yeah." Roi glanced at it quickly, and then let his gaze shift to the door for a moment, he wanted to _leave._ "It was that test from last Friday." Huh, she finally graded it didn't she? Took her long enough.

"I just finished grading your class today and I was wondering if you'd like to see your grade."

Roi shrugged and slipped both of his hands into the front pocket of his grey hoodie, allowing his right thumb to pop out of a small hole worn into the fabric. It was wonderfully comfortable with the hood tassels falling all the way down to his hips so that they swayed as he walked. Needless to say, Roi loved the thing to death for its sheer comfort and simplicity. "I guess. Aren't you handing them out tomorrow?"

Mrs. Renolds nodded, "That's right, but I wanted to show you yours a bit early due to your score." She quickly pulled a red pen out of her pocket in what was an obviously practiced movement, and wrote a rather large, larger than necessary, 'D' on the top right corner. "I'm quite disappointed Roi, your grades have been slipping. What happened to that straight A student that used to sit in my class?" She sighed, "I'm going to have to call your parents about this. I mean I don't think you even tried on this essay." She flipped the test to the second page to reference it, "The prompt was for you to explain the third crusade, but you just went off into a tangent about horses."

"Parent. You're going to have to call my parent." Roi corrected, ignoring the entire issue of his essay. In truth, he hadn't been paying attention that day in class, or that entire week, so he had no idea how to explain the crusades.

"What?"

"You said 'parents' – that's plural."

Mrs. Renolds cocked her head to the side, "But your mother married just two months ago." As soon as she said it, the teacher knew that she made a mistake. The blue eyes that had unsettled her earlier were now regarding her with silent fury and gave a silent message. _That man is not my father._

"Excuse me," Roi finally spoke, breaking her momentary pause, "I have to get home."

"Oh… oh y-yes of course." She nodded, breaking eye contact. The teacher kept her eyes trained to her desk and only raised her eyes to see Roi slink out of her classroom and into the hall where she lost sight of him amongst the other students.

* * *

Roi wasn't all that surprised when the sky opened up and it began to rain as he walked home, he had seen the storm clouds after all, but it did nothing to lift his mood. Quickly, he pulled the grey hood over his head although his blonde hair was already soaked, and little droplets of rain slip down stray strands and onto his face. Picking up his pace, the teen jogged down the city sidewalk and down a back alley in the hopes of taking a short cut.

Making a turn into an alley, Roi jogged until he reached a dead end. Before him was a steel fence, at least 8 feet high, but luckily Roi spotted several trash bins on which he could stand. Not wanting to get any wetter, he climbed onto one bin and used the helpful boost to scale the fence, landing on the balls of his feet on the other side.

No sooner had he stood up to his full height, Roi heard a low and threatening growl followed by the clinking of chain. Looking back over his shoulder, Roi found himself face to face with a rather angry looking Rottweiler. There was a chain attached to its neck, but one of the links had broken allowing the dog to move around the city as freely as it wished. The huge hulking beast of a dog growled again, and lowered its head, baring its fangs.

"Ah…" Roi said softly, trying not to show how utterly terrified he was, "Hey boy…"

It snarled.

Suddenly, there was the blinding flash of lightning followed by a loud roar of thunder, and the already aggravated dog lunged forward at the drenched teen.

No sooner had the dog moved an inch, Roi was already sprinting in the opposite direction, pushing over trash bins and boxes in an attempt to trip the four legged beast. His converse slapped against the pavement beneath his feet at a furious pace, not slowing for even the fear of slipping in the quickly forming puddles. Still, the dog was faster, and was gaining on the boy.

Up ahead, Roi saw another high fence, and after it the street that lead to his apartment building. Though his legs were burning and his lungs screamed for a break, Roi let loose one last burst of speed towards the fence. Leaping up onto it, its steel links rattled and there was another flash of lightning. The Rottweiler chomped down on his ankle, trying to pull him back. Roi yelped out in pain, but the only thing he could think was how he was clinging to a high metal object in a thunderstorm.

The lighting and thunder crashed again, and with his free leg, Roi kicked the dog square between its beady eyes. The dog was caught off guard and let go, giving the teen the two seconds he needed to haul himself over the fence. This time, his landing wasn't as graceful, and both of Roi's knees scraped against the pavement as he fell on them. He hissed in pain for a short moment, but was more pleased with his accomplishment of escaping with his life.

He stood up, legs shaky and knees bleeding lightly, "Next time, I'll take the long way…" Roi promised himself.

After flipping off the defeated but still barking Rottweiler, Roi limped the rest of the way back to his apartment building. Usually, he would have taken the stairs, but his knees screamed in protest at the very thought of such a thing. So instead, he waited for the elevator and hit the button for the second floor.

The two metal doors opened, and Roi stepped out into the long and dimly lit hallway. The building was a bit of a dive, and the lights stopped working occasionally, or the heat would turn off in the entire building. It was the sort of building that had rocks thrown into the windows (and on one particular occasion, Roi had been the one who threw the rock).

Fumbling for the house key that he kept in his back pocket, Roi let himself into the house silently. As he stepped inside, he could hear his mother's voice on the phone in the other room.

"…His grades are slipping? No, we had no idea…"

Roi pursed his lips tightly, so Mrs. Renolds wasted no time in keeping her little promise. Oh yes, this day was just shaping up magnificently wasn't it? Already he could imagine the argument that was going to occur between himself and his mother. She would say how she expected more from him, how school was oh-so important, and that he was throwing his life away.

Ha! Like she would be on to talk. She threw her life away when she married that… reject of a man now called her husband.

Wanting avoid confrontation for as long as possible, Roi slunk past the kitchen and into his bedroom hoping that no one saw him come in, shutting the door silently. Dropping his soaked backpack onto his bed, Roi sighed and sat down at his computer desk. Without much enthusiasm, he checked his e-mail, which he technically wasn't supposed to be doing considering the fact he was still grounded for back talking Rick last week. Nothing, no e-mail. He sighed again; it wasn't like it was unexpected with the way that the day had been going.

He had no sooner opened an IM window with a friend when he heard his mother's voice (so she had seen him… damn.) -

"Roi! Roi come here we need to have a talk." A 'talk' is what she always called it, even though the term didn't really fit. The talk's usually consisted of her talking – no, yelling – at him while he had to stand there in silent submission. Unable to defend himself usually because 'excuses were for liars' – whatever that meant.

Roi got up from his seat at his computer desk and put the chair in front of the door and beneath the doorknob, effectively locking it. Quickly, he grabbed his Swiss army knife from atop his dresser, iPod from his iHome, and sunglasses and shoved them into his jean pockets.

His computer made a beeping alert noise as he was looking for a hat:

**jihad.on.YOU!: **Hey man, so what's up with you?

Roi typed quickly with one hand while he opened his bedroom window with the other.

**Slurp:** Ntm, but I gotta go. I'm getting out of the house for a couple hours while my mom and Rick blow some steam

**jihad.on.YOU!:** kk, wanna hang out over here at my place until things blow over?

**Slurp:** Nah, they'd look there first. You only live one block away so it's sort of obvious. I'm not bringing my phone (they can track those things) so don't bother txting later. I'll call via payphone express later when I get the chance.

"Roi!" his mother called again, this time more agitated.

**Slurp:** g2g now, ttyl

Picking up the wad of cash that he always kept beneath his keyboard, Roi leaned out of his bedroom window and grabbed onto the thick stone ledge directly above it. He hauled himself up, and swung a leg onto the ledge to make things easier. Roi had no sooner pulled himself up onto a sitting position on the ledge when he heard Rick and his mother at his bedroom door.

"Roi! Roi open this door right now!" His mother yelled.

"Listen to your mother!" Rick added in as he tried to force the door open. Roi almost laughed, it was strange how Rick seemed to think he had taken over the 'father' position.

Not wanting to be around when they finally managed to get the door open, Roi scooted across the ledge carefully until he reached the end of that particular side of the building. Turns were always the hardest part or sneaking out, because he could easily just lose his balance and fall off, but it was necessary to get to that other wall to reach the fire escape. Because it was raining, the ledge was a little slippery, but Roi couldn't count how many times he had snuck out this way, and he hadn't fallen down yet. His confidence was the only thing that allowed him to do this.

Keeping his back to the wall, Roi carefully maneuvered himself around the corner of the building and onto the other side. He relaxed a fraction but didn't allow his focus to break. Scooting another eight feet across the ledge, Roi made it to the fire escape and allowed himself to jump the 5 foot drop onto its iron landing. From there on, it was an easy way down by using the ladder.

There was a particularly loud crack of thunder and lighting, and Roi starting walking towards the center of the city knowing he could hang out in one of the many buildings there. The walk wasn't long, mostly because he knew where he was going, and there weren't many of those annoying city tourists blundering around in the rain.

Reaching the center of town, Roi looked around its large expanse. When things got basic, the center of the city was just a large intersection with a large fountain in its center surrounded by varies high end stores and businesses. As usual, despite the rain, there were hundreds of cars in the streets driving around.

Glancing into one of the glass display windows next to the main entrance of the building, Roi looked at the newest Abstergo Industries product. The teen wasn't very surprised to find that it was another anti-depressant pill with a long list of side effects. It seemed like now, there were more shrinks just filling out prescriptions and less doing talk-therapy…

Roi was just imagining what his life would be like if he slipped his mother some of these anti-depressants when suddenly, some sort of gun shot off and something whizzed through the air past Roi's ear to crash into the glass behind his head shattering it into thousands of little pieces. Instinctively, Roi's hands came up to cover his ears and he dropped down to his stomach on the wet sidewalk.

The few tourists that had been mulling around screamed in terror and ran into the nearest shop for cover. People scrambled in all directions, not knowing where the shot came from or what the attackers looked like. Another shot followed the first about fifteen seconds later, crashing into another window on the other side of the building.

"Go, go! Move in!" Roi heard someone shout in a military sort voice. Peaking up from the ground, the disgruntled teen watched as at least 10 men charged straight towards him each carrying a various kind of gun.

Roi was beyond panicking, and his 'fight or flight' instinct seemed to be taking some sort of vacation because the teen found himself glued to the spot. How could this even be possible? This mini world war that was going on in the center of the city had to be a dream, because there was no way this could really be happening.

The entrance doors to Abstergo Industries – which were mere inches away from Roi - flung open, and several men charged out of there as well. They were heavily armed with some sort of turret gun, which they immediately began firing at the other men. Roi found himself in a strange position. Beside the open doors and behind the turret. The white clad security men of Abstergo seemed to take no notice of him even though the teen could have reached out and grabbed them if he wanted to, could he escape through the doors without them noticing?

What other defenses did they have _inside?_

In the insanity of the moment, Roi found himself thinking "Isn't Abstergo a medical company?" From the way they were fighting, and killing these attackers, they seemed more like a privately owned military.

Gunshots were flying through the air in all directions, breaking more windows and denting the stone and metal framework of the building, just over ten feet away from where he was laying, one of the attackers fell holding his stomach. A thick red fluid seemed to leak out of him, and the obviously dying man made eye contact with the terrified bystander. His eyes seemed glazed over, but Roi caught the pondering – calculating – look in his features.

The man coughed up a small amount of blood and threw his handgun to the teen. It looked more like the dying man was making an attempt to hit one of the white clad guards but missed though, "Run." He mouthed to Roi. "Run."

One of the white clad men closest to Roi suddenly grasped at his chest as a small spurt of red

blood gushed out the side. Not only did it mar his once perfectly white uniform, small droplets of his blood soaked into Roi's hoodie and onto the right side of his face. Things suddenly became very real.

Roi didn't need telling twice after that. Carefully moving low to the ground and hoping not to be

hit by a stray bullet, Roi crawled behind the men operating the turret, grabbed the handgun, and into Abstergo Industries. The inside of the building was oddly clean considering the carnage outside. The information desk in the center of the main lobby was empty, and the hallways each had a guard standing watch. Unfortunately, there were two hallways exiting the main lobby, and so two guards saw the soaked teenager.

"I…!" Roi put both of his hands up immediately dropping the handgun, "Don't shoot!"

They didn't listen to the boy's plea and immediately fired their weapons.

Roi felt a bullet fly right past his head and through a lock of hair before lodging itself in the wall behind. The other bullet struck true, making contact – and Roi fell to the ground. He didn't move.

From outside, the men operating the turret called for backup, and the two guards left their

posts to assist. The attackers were dwindling in numbers, but still advancing on Abstergo. The jogged past the boy and out into the fray.

Once they had passed, Roi snapped his blue eyes open. He wasn't dead – not yet anyway. The bullet had hit, just not in the way that the guard thought it did. Roi's favorite grey hoodie, spattered with blood on one side, now had a bullet hole on the side. The fabric had always been baggy around his body, but it had confused the guard! He had shot thinking that his body was bigger!

Not wasting the opportunity, Roi sprung up to his feet, grabbed the gun, and ran down one of the halls exiting the lobby now that they were left unguarded. The hallway was white and overly bright, almost reminding him of his high school. The doors were metal though, with combination locks sealing them shut from all intruders. On the ceiling, there was a little red light every few feet that flashed an angry crimson color and sounded a loud alarm.

Reaching a flight of stairs, Roi run upwards and down another short hallway before meeting an intersection. Three halls to choose from.

Hearing the gunshots from down below die down, Roi knew that the small battle must be over. The guards would wonder where the body in the lobby went, so he didn't have much time to figure out an escape. Darting down the left hall, he looked for an open door. He heard mumbled voices from behind one of the doors though, and hid on its opposite side as it opened suddenly. Shielded from sight from the open door, he listened in.

"Those pesky assassins at it again?" A voice mused aloud, annoyed.

Another man scoffed, "There isn't nearly enough of them to get past our defenses."

"Indeed," The first agreed, "though we should go investigate those that are still clinging to life. They might have the information we want…"

Roi heard a soft clatter as the two men walked away, and he peeked past the door to see that there was a black pen on the ground. Its back end was flashing oddly though. The two men walking away were in white lab coats and held clipboards; where they doctors?

Moving quickly, Roi scooped up the pen and slipped into the door just as it was closing. He had been expecting another room, but was surprised to find another… hallway. This one was short, with another metal door at the end of it with a keypad.

Roi turned back around to try and open the first door, but saw that there was ne keypad present. There had to be a control room on the other side of the second door where all exits had to be timed and planned. This security measure would keep all intruders… trapped. Great.

Roi moved to the second door with the keypad, and punched in a few random numbers.

"Access denied." A computer voice echoed.

Frantically, he punched in several more.

"Access denied." The computer voice repeated.

"Screw you!" Roi cried out in frustration, and threw the pen at the keypad. Suddenly, the pad flashed a warm green, and the door slid open.

"Access granted, welcome Dr. Vidic." The computer voice said this time.

The pen! It was the flashing pen that granted access! Picking it up, Roi walked through the threshold and into a large room. Inside, there was one wall made up totally of windows while the opposing wall had two more metal doors on it. In the center there was a large… what was it?

It looked like a table with a silver streak down its middle that lit up every few seconds, although it had a curve in it so nothing could really be set on it. Roi walked over to it an inspected the computer at its side. All sorts of diagrams and charts were saved there, and some of them showed a man laying down on it.

Roi wasn't stupid enough to lie down.

A voice came on a PA system:

"Attention. Attention. We have an intruder on the premises. He is armed and is to be shot on sight. We have reason to believe that he is after the Animus."

A person began to bash on one of the doors on the far wall from the other side, "Hey! Hey open up! I'm in here!"

The second door slid open and in walked the same two doctors that Roi saw earlier followed by at least a dozen white clad guards. "There he is, get the brat!" one of the doctors yelled, "Don't shoot, you'll damage the equipment!"

The guards surged forward and Roi made a beeline for the door he came from. He saw that it was firmly closed though, and remembered that one had to use the computers to get out seeing as the doors were one way only. Turning on his heel, Roi started to run in the opposite direction towards the open door by the doctors. All rational sense of thinking was gone now.

Just as he was passing the table, a guard reached out for him, and without thinking Roi brought up the handgun, firing upon the guard.

The guard fell on the ground holding his arm and writing in pain, and Roi was flung back by the unexpected recoil on the small gun. He lost his footing and fell back onto the table. It was hard, and the back of his head bashed into the metal streak making him see stars. Something within the table whirred to life, and the lights flashed quicker. A screen rose up and blocked his vision and a strange sort of triangular symbol was the only thing he could see.

"Error." A female computer voice said in Roi's mind. His head felt like he had split it in two, and the teen fell faint. The gun fell from his limp hand and Roi lost consciousness as his mind went white. "Error." It repeated.

"He's on the Animus!" the doctor yelled.

"Uploading memory." The female computer voice continued.

The doctor ran to the computer pannel, "I... I don't know what it's doing! It's uploading Desmond's file!"

"Initializing memory."

* * *

**Notes - **

Usually I really hate using OC's in stories, but this idea has been nagging me for a while and at the moment, there are no teenage characters in Assassin's Creed. Beyond that, in the game there are no children at all. Everyone is fully grown. That makes sense though because some people didn't like the idea of Altair bandishing his sword and lobbing off the head of some little girl in Acre. Not saying that most gamers would do that, but some might.

I'm not particularly pleased with his chapter, and I'm excited to get the next one out. Altair will be appearing in chapter two, so don't worry, you won't be surrounded by a sea of OC's much longer.

Review?


	2. Initialization

…_Initialization…_

It was so bright that not only did Roi have to close his eyes; he had to lift his arm to block out the intense light. He felt strangely unbalanced, but that didn't block out the fact that the back of his head still hurt like hell. This was no surprise, falling down didn't give someone a warm-fuzzy feeling inside. It hurt. Slowly though, trying to ignore his headache, Roi cracked an eye open and dared to look around.

Up above, there were many weird shapes that looked almost like skyscrapers with fuzzy, grainy edges. It was like looking through a blurry window. Was he in the city? Some of the 'buildings' above him swayed from side to side, and they were all too close for comfort. Straining his eyes to focus on them, Roi saw that they weren't in fact buildings, but people who had crowded around him with curious expressions on their faces. Why? Roi then realized that he was lying on his back on what he presumed to be the ground, because there were several pointy rocks poking into his back. Had he blacked out?

Most of the people above and around the fallen boy were muttering to one another quietly, but upon seeing the boy in question awaken, one spoke up. "What in god's name are you wearing child?" the man had an accent that Roi recognized instantly. Arabic. He saw enough news reports on the television to know it by now.

"Wha…?" Roi croaked; his throat was painfully dry like he hadn't had a drink in hours. He glanced down to see that he was still wearing his now horribly stained grey hoodie and jeans, though the stain wasn't the vibrant red it had been before, and had faded to a warm rust color. He was dressed normally… What were they talking about? Roi looked back up at the people, noticing how _they_ were not dressed like normal people. Turbans. There was a turban on almost every man, and they were wearing tunic in all shades of brown he could think of. "What's going on?" Roi asked as he sat up. "Who are you?"

"Look, look!" one man exclaimed pointing at the rust stain on his hoodie, "He's covered in blood!" he looked startled and nervous, "Do you think it's the assassin they're looking for? The one that killed…"

"No! He's far too young!" another snapped in annoyance, "They say that the assassin was a full grown man in white."

"What an odd hair color. He must be a foreigner," A man reached out and pinched his arm, "And look at how pale his skin is!"

Roi smacked the strange man's hand away quickly, "Hey, back off!" he warned, blue eyes looking all around as he tried to orient himself and make sense of the situation. Who were these people anyway?

"Such strange shoes…" another man nudged his sneakers with his own foot in curiosity. In his hand, he was holding the other one, making Roi realize it must have fallen off when – and how – he got here.

Roi yanked his feet away instinctively, "W-Where am I?" He asked, standing up on two shaky legs. With only one sneaker on, Roi felt strangely lopsided, and struggled to balance for a moment. The air around him was hot and arid, and so totally different from the moist smog filled air of the city. It was so clean to breathe in that it shocked him. Where was the pollution? All around, there were tall buildings and spires, but none were made of the familiar concrete and metal. They were all made of some sandy colored stone and wood. Out in the streets there was an abundance of awnings and little vendor shops selling produce of all sorts. Several brightly colored fruits in one stall caught Roi's eye, but he found himself unable to put a name to them.

There were many scents around him, many that Roi couldn't name either. Spices, breads being baked, meat cooking, and the general smell of various animals were everywhere. The image of some sort of medieval food court formed in the teen's mind; _"Hi. Welcome to the Black Plague Grill, can I take your order?"_

"Such a strange child," one commented to another before shaking his head in disappointment, "The foreign blood must have addled his brains!"

"Where am I?" Roi asked again, louder this time to make sure he was heard, concern coming through his voice rather obviously. He didn't hear any cars or buses or trains or televisions, or… well anything. It was all too unnaturally quiet besides the occasional nicker of a passing horse drawn wagon. There weren't any road signs, or even a paved road. Just sand and dirt.

"How strange he looks! Do you think he's an escaped slave?" Roi felt a hand grab at his hair, and he yanked himself away from the stranger's grasp with a look of desperation on his face. Snatching his sneaker from the other man, he bolted down the dirt road bumping into and shoving people out of the way as he went. Men and women cried out in surprise as the blonde blur pushed them aside.

More turbans and tunics, he noticed in dismay. Why wasn't _anyone_ dressing normally? Where were the jeans, T-shirts, and Reeboks? What was going on?!

Turning onto another dirt city street, Roi bumped into a large stack of weaved baskets which had been painstakingly stacked into a pyramid, knocking them over into the road. Baskets?! Why wasn't anyone selling fake designer bags or bogus watches? In the city there were always those hunched over men on the sides of the road selling knock off merchandise for jacked up prices, but never had Roi seen items like these on sale.

"Hey! Watch where you are going you idiot!" a merchant yelled in annoyance and anger, probably the man that had staked the baskets in the first place to attract customers. He shook his fist in threat as he walked towards Roi, his face red with fury.

"Ah, sorry…" Roi held up his hands in submission as he took a step back, "It was an accident!"

"What is going on here?" another voice pitched in from behind. Roi turned to see a man clad in armor with a sword dangling at his hip. The man was muscular, and had a stern face that reminded Roi of the silent security guards he saw in the malls back home. The man continued speaking, "Who made this mess?"

Not waiting for the angered merchant to say another word, Roi burst off running. The armored man ran after him in chase, "You! You stop at once!" Roi kept his legs moving; not wanting to know what would happen if he was caught. Another armored man with a turban on his head heard the commotion from another street, and ran over to assist. If Roi had been thinking clearly, he might have realized that running made the guards think that he actually did something wrong, but he was far too disoriented.

Dodging past a donkey next to a wooden vendor stand, Roi looked for a place to hide. His current position crouching behind a large clay pot wouldn't help him forever. The people standing about looked at him oddly for various reasons - his hair, his clothes, his eye color, his obvious distress and of course the guards charging after him with their swords brandished.

To his side, there was a parked wagon drawn by oxen, and Roi saw something that sparked an idea into his mind. Sprinting behind a vendor's stall for temporary cover, he lost the guards line of sight and then made a beeline towards the wagon while the guards looked in the opposite direction. As they turned around, Roi ducked behind one of the oxen to hide himself though he could still hear the guards calling out for him from mere feet away:

"Come out! Where are you hiding?!"

Knowing better than to show himself, Roi slunk down the length of the wagon in a crouched position until he reached its back end. A large pile of hay was stored there, and would provide cover at least for a few moments if he hid within it. Leaping into the hay filled wagon without another moment's hesitation, Roi thought himself safe and let out a shaky sigh of relief.

It came as a shock when he heard someone else in the hay breathing as well.

Roi looked through the thick screen of straw around him and saw that he had landed basically in the lap of another person, and they didn't look too pleased about it. Even though the other's face was covered by a hood and hay, a scowl could easily be seen. Roi was about to cry out in surprise when the stranger's hand shot out and firmly covered his mouth so that all the sound that escape was a muffled yell.

Roi quieted, but the stranger kept his hand firmly over his mouth as a precaution if the boy started to yell again. The force of his grip was almost bruising, and made the teen wince, but he really had no choice but to remain still and take it because the guards were directly next to the wagon.

The terrified and confused teenager listened hard as the guards stomped around in frustration, calling out for him to show himself at once. Peeking through a gap in the hay, Roi saw that the guards had brandished their long swords, and looked like they meant to use them. That gave all the more reason not to show himself.

Glancing at the other man beside him, Roi concluded that he must be hiding as well.

The guards had moved away from the wagon to the other side of the street to check out that area, and Roi thought that the worst of things were over. The stranger had yet to remove his hand though, and Roi saw the flash of a weapon on his belt.

Then remembering what he had in his pocket from before he left his bedroom, Roi reached and pulled out his Swiss Army Knife. Flicking it open with a practiced but sloppy movement, he slashed at the stranger – hoping to hurt him before he himself could be hurt.

The stranger batted the small knife out of his hand with ease and then pinned him still against his own chest so that Roi couldn't move anymore. The teen struggled, but was held steady by the other's strong arm, "Be still," the stranger hissed in his ear in a stern voice, "lest you want the guards to find you."

Roi wanted to snap that the guards were on the other side of the street, but all the sound that escaped were several muted and garbled words. The stranger took no heed of him and continued to watch the guards from beneath the hay.

Even from this awkward position, Roi glared up at the stranger to get a better look at him. Roi found that he was wearing a thick white hooded cloak that covered most of his features. All Roi could make out on his tanned face was the stern jaw and tightly pursed lips. There were the faint remains of a scar on the stranger's mouth though, and Roi wondered for a moment how he received them. To his dismay, Roi realized that he hadn't even cut the hooded stranger with his knife, and just made a little slash in his white robe.

Then, barely two feet away, Roi heard one of the guards speak (They had walked back over to the wagon?!):

"Eh, he is not here. Perhaps another street?" one of the guards suggested to another.

Even as they left the area, the stranger held him perfectly still beneath the hay. As the minutes passed, Roi's breathing slowed until it matched the slow moving chest of his captor and he became acutely aware of the odd situation.

Then without warning, the stranger, hauled himself and Roi out of the hay, flinging the boy on the ground with a rather unceremonious 'thud'. Quickly, the stranger looked around the corner of the street to check that the guards had indeed left.

"Hey!" Roi snapped in annoyance hauling himself back up, "Wha -"

"If you value your life," the stranger hissed again, "you will be silent." It was then that Roi noticed that there was now a rather large blade being pressed against his neck. Not wanting to test the threat, he shut up quickly. The hooded stranger was wearing all white except for a red sash and various leather belts and buckles. On top of that, Roi easily noticed the different weapons he carried. Small knives, the large dagger he was showing off at the moment, and a long sword at his hip.

A thought popped into his head suddenly and without warning, "You're… you're an assassin?" The men from before had mentioned an assassin in the city clothed in white, and as of yet, Roi hadn't seen any other heavily armed man wearing the color. It made even more sense when Roi remembered how he was hiding in the hay as well. Hiding from the guards just like him.

The pressure behind the dagger at his throat increased slightly after he said this, and Roi was afraid that the other might kill him. "I said be _silent_."

Hm. It seemed like that answered his question then.

The stranger looked frazzled, and his mouth formed a frustrated scowl. He was obviously thinking, but about what? How best to kill the annoying brat? Roi couldn't tell. Ha! He couldn't tell anything, he barely knew what was going on in the first place!

The dagger was pulled away from his neck, and the stranger slid it into some sort of holder on his back, although Roi felt the sting on his throat from where the blade sliced through skin. It wasn't deep, no worse than a paper cut, but made the teen's heart pound. "You are coming with me," the stranger said suddenly, grabbing the teen by his grey hood and dragging him along behind as he walked like some sort of poorly trained dog.

"Hey, hey!" Roi protested loudly, "What are you doing?!" With his free hand he tried to pry the assassin's fingers off his hood, while he clenched his shoe tightly in the other as he hadn't yet had a chance to put it back on his foot yet. When it became clear that the assassin's grip would not break, Roi threw said shoe in desperation.

It connected with the back of the assassin's hooded head with a light 'smack!' and made him stop dead in his tracks. Roi watched the strong shoulders tense, and presumed that the assassin's brow was twitching in fury beneath the hood.

"If you were interested in maintaining your strange existence with all of you limbs _intact_," the assassin snarled whirling around to face his young prisoner, "you would do well not to test me!" With that, he reached down, grabbed the sneaker, and lobbed it up onto the roof of some building overhead with a well aimed throw.

"That was my shoe!"

"If you valued it so, you should not have thrown it in the first place!"

Roi glowered up at the taller man, then huffed in defeat, "I at least want my knife." He had saved up for it for a long period of time, and he was not going to loose it now that he might actually have use for it.

"It was of poor quality. You're better off fighting with that odd shoe of yours."

"It's a Swiss Army knife!" Roi protested, once again trying to yank himself away.

"Then this 'Swiss Army' of yours is poorly equipped."

* * *

And that was how Roi came to find himself being hauled through the city – or more precisely the back alleys – by this madman of an assassin. He had struggled valiantly at first, but it soon became clear that the older man's grip was not one that was going to be broken, and that escape was impossible. Resistance was futile. Roi wondered silently why he hadn't been killed yet by the assassin, and found that he could come up with no suitable answer. Roi was still alive though, which meant that the assassin had a reason to drag him along.

After walking a short distance with only one shoe on, the teen felt horribly lopsided and found it hard to match the other's pace. And though it was against his better judgment, he kicked off his remaining sneaker. He'd need to get new shoes soon though, the hot ground was murder on his feet and there were many steaming piles left behind by oxen and other beasts of labor. "I've lost my shoes," the teen lamented mentally, gazing back at the sneaker with an unreadable expression on his face.

The assassin walked at a fast pace, but never one loosened his grip on the boy's hood. Roi walked at his side now, as it was unbearably uncomfortable from behind. His poor hoodie, Roi thought lamely to himself, it had been through so much. Now there was a bullet hole, the large blood stain, and probably a new tear due to the assassin's claw like fingers.

It came as a sudden surprise when the assassin suddenly stopped by a vendor's stall. Before them stood a man with a white turban on his head, and the only things exposed were his two brown eyes.

"Ah, Altair," the main said in an amiable manner to the assassin, "Have you taken to this insane foreigner? Perhaps you mean to keep him as some sort of pet?" It seemed his odd clothing instantly labeled him as mentally unwell and the blonde hair was a dead giveaway. Still, Roi was quickly becoming tired of the insults that were constantly coming his way.

"He recognized what I was," the assassin, now known to be called Altair answered, "and he is too young to be silenced by the blade."

Roi scoffed and looked away, and saw a large wall not too far in the distance. Was that the city limits? There was a huge gate there that lead him to think so.

"Hm," the other man mused, "Indeed. The creed states 'Never harm the innocent' and children cannot be held accountable for their actions. What do you suggest we do with him?"

Roi stood silently by the assassin Altair's side as the other still held a firm grip on him. A forced escape was impossible due to the difference in strength between them, so Roi decided that a voluntary release would be better. To do that, he'd need guards. Lots of them. "Help! Help!" Roi screamed at the top of his lungs suddenly, catching his two captors off guard.

The assassin whirled around, "Be _quiet_!"

"Assassin! Help!" Roi yelled louder, waving his arms about and making an obvious show of struggle against the older man, "He's going to kill me!"

The white clad man looked around nervously to check if any guards had actually heard yet, "He is out of his mind! He's going to get us killed!"

"Meet me outside the gates of the city," Altair told the other quickly, also looking for charging guards.

Guards on patrol heard the distressed cry and rand towards them quickly with their swords brandished to attack, "There he is! Kill the assassin!" one cried out pointing a tanned finger towards Altair.

Without a word, Altair picked up the teen and threw him over his shoulder, rather roughly, despite Roi's struggles. Altair glanced at the white clad man at his side before sprinting away from the guards and towards the large wall Roi had seen earlier. The white clad man followed behind as best he could, but couldn't quite keep up with the pace that the assassin set. This surprised the teen, because now Altair was carrying another person on his shoulders. How fast was he when he wasn't running with a hostage?

"Get him! Don't let the assassin get away!" a guard shouted from behind.

The white clad man veered off to the side and onto another street. Several of the guards chased after him, leaving few chasing Roi and his assassin captor. It seemed to Roi that they planned to split up, lose the guards, and then meet up later to decide his fate.

Making a quick turn, Altair went onto another road. Before him there was a large pile of crates, which he immediately leapt onto. Using the crates like stairs, he made it to the roof of the nearest building. Brandishing the sword at his hip, Altair cut several of the rope cables holding the crates in place which caused them to fall in a messy heap in the street. One crate even fell on top of an unlucky guard and Roi swore he heard the poor man cry out.

Altair ran across the roof and jumped across the small space between the first building and the next without missing a beat. Jumping down one level onto a small porch, and then leaping onto the side of another building, Altair climbed with one hand up the side and to the roof by grabbing onto windows, and different stones. The assassin grunted as he hauled his own body and the teen's up the face of the building, his muscles straining from the load.

Roi had no doubt in his mind that with two hands and less weight, this wall would be child's play. What would Altair have been like back home in the city?

Before them now on the flat roof of the building, there was a small roof garden with colorful flaps of cloth billowing down from each of its four sides. Roi had barely registered that the thing was there – much less what it was - when Altair quickly jumped into it behind the flaps of cloth. Roi was pinned down on the roof and the assassin covered his mouth again to make sure he was kept silent. Roi bit down on his tanned hand – and hard - but the man only winced in pain. Even when Roi could taste the other's blood in his mouth, he made no noise.

Altair craned his neck to the side and glanced out a gap between the flaps of cloth to watch the guards on the other roof as they searched. They must have found a ladder to scale the building, but now had no idea where to look for the assassin and his accomplice. Still, they peered around aimlessly for a few moments before giving up their search and descending back down into the street.

Roi felt the hands pinning him down release, and he sat up. But before the teen could say anything at all, Roi felt the assassin's iron fist connect with his jaw. The force of the punch sent him reeling backwards and into the side of the roof garden.

"What the hell was that for?!" Roi snarled at the older man, cradling his head in his hands tenderly.

The assassin said nothing and then reached out quickly, pinching something in the juncture where Roi's neck met his shoulder. A pressure point? Not fair!

The teen felt his body go limp, and there was nothing he could do to stop himself from falling backwards. Although as Roi's head hit the hard roof top and his eye sight faded, the teen made a point to flick off the assassin before he lost consciousness for the second time.

Altair wasn't fazed by the hand gesture, but he silently wondered to himself what it meant. It wasn't a motion that he had seen before. The assassin was grateful that the boy would struggle no longer though, as it was becoming increasingly difficult _not_ to kill him. The boy didn't seem to realize how much of a target he was, and barely knew how to defend himself. Altair sighed; the boy was just a prideful child.

Not bothering to be gentle, Altair lifted the boy and threw him over his shoulder so that the boy's chin rested on his own the lower part of his shoulder blades. Stepping out of the roof garden, Altair found a ladder and descended back down onto the streets before heading towards the gates.

* * *

Even without opening his eyes, Roi knew he was awake. The soreness that was throbbing through his body was proof enough of that. His head especially was paining him; how many times had he hit it recently? Three times? Four times? Thinking about it too hard made his headache worse.

The teen groaned in pain and went to put a hand to his temple, only to find that his arms were pinned behind his back. Twisting them around, Roi could feel the rope bound around them scrape against the exposed skin; it seemed as though even more tears had been made to his poor hoodie; this time, in the sleeves.

Now confused, Roi opened his eyes.

"Awake are we now?" an amiable voice asked from the side. It was the white clad man from earlier! Now he was astride a dark brown horse only feet away, and though the man's face was covered except for his eyes, Roi was certain that there was a smug smirk across his features.

Roi wanted to demand what was going on, but all that came out of his mouth was a pitiful moan of pain. As his mouth opened, Roi felt the stiff soreness on his jaw where that damn assassin punched him earlier, and as much as he hated to admit it, the man could throw one hell of a punch. The teen was surprised his jaw didn't just break.

"Yes," the man laughed after seeing the boy's pain, "I suspect I would feel the same if Altair chose to harm me." He snickered, "Then again, I would have ducked to avoid Altair's blow. You on the other hand seem to enjoy the purple and blue bruises he can provide."

Roi made a lunge at the annoying man in fury, though his binding held him still. Not only that though, Roi became aware of the arm holding him in place also.

"Hold your tongue Basim," Altair snapped from behind Roi in annoyance, "There is no point in aggravating him. We will leave his fate to Al Mualim." The hooded assassin carefully held the boy in place, not wanting him to fall of their own horse.

Roi then realized that he was on a horse like the other man – what did Altair call him? He was sitting on the very front of the saddle with Altair behind him handling the reigns with one hand. The steady footfalls of the horse sent twinges of pain through his body, and Roi felt himself groan again at the feeling.

He didn't know how long he had been riding on the horse, but he did know that he couldn't stand it much longer. They must have been riding for hours, for the sun was almost totally set and darkness had almost taken over the sky. His legs ached from the unfamiliar position, and the base of his spine was sore. Roi had never ridden a horse in his life, and this certainly wasn't going to be a stellar first experience with it.

Luckily, Roi noticed that there was a city up ahead while around there seemed to be endless sprawling desert. That meant they would stop! They couldn't continue riding through the night! (…could they?) In the center of the city ahead, Roi saw a towering fortress with spirals and intimidating stone walls. Was it a palace? What was this place?

Silently, Altair and Basim rode towards the town, and the guards of the gate seemed to recognize them. Without question, the wooden spike gates were opened for them, and the trio proceeded deeper into the town before dismounting. Roi, without Altair to support him on the saddle, began to slip off until the assassin caught him. Roi's legs felt like jelly, and couldn't support himself, so he begrudgingly accepted the assassin's help without complaint.

"Not a very good rider, are you?" Basim asked; a smile probably under that mask of his.

Roi cursed in his own mind, embarrassed though he didn't know why. He didn't answer, not wanting to give the other the satisfaction of the answer, so he settled on a rather pissed off glare and scowl.

Basim only chuckled brown eyes glowing with amusement in the low light, "You and Altair both seem to have a fondness for fowl looks, hm?"

"Basim…" Altair warned lowly, not amused by the situation.

"His is more chilling though, I have to say Altair," Basim continued in quieter voice, "Those eyes of his… They're almost not human." Basim quieted down then, troubled by his oddly colored eyes. It was clear that the boy was in no condition to walk though, so Altair moved to carry him once again.

Roi didn't struggle or protest, and let his chin rest on the assassin's shoulder blades; he was too sore to fight back. "Where are we?"

Basim followed behind and his brown eyes twinkled like he knew something no one else did, "Welcome to Masyaf child. Hopefully our master will smile upon you…"

* * *

**Author Notes:** Well, sorry for the extended wait, but there've been some technical difficulties. My e-mail account seems to be bouncing, so I couldn't recieve/send anything. Hopefully, this chapter isn't too clunky, as I'm rather happy with it. Still, let me know if yout think a character is being OOC, like Altair.

Props to two very important people who've helped me work with this story (You should totally give them many, many presents and cookies):

**Vir M.**

**SJ Endeavor**


	3. Error

_...Error..._

Despite all of her frantic typing on the Animus's keyboard and meddling with its interior wires over the last few hours, Lucy found it impossible to get a reading on what was going on. The main computer screen functioned normally, with all its usual alerts and notices on display, and none of the other machines connected to the Animus seemed to be malfunctioning. The only problem was that it had uploaded Desmond's genetic memories when Desmond wasn't in the Animus. Someone else was. Things _shouldn't_ have been working.

Lucy sighed and slumped her shoulders forward; she couldn't even call the poor person in the Animus a man, could she? He was very young looking, there was not even the trace of peach fuzz on his face, and by Lucy's guess wasn't much older than 17. There was no way that he was out of high school. The boy looked like he was sleeping peacefully on the Animus as if it were some sort of demented bed, although every once in a while he would grimace or make an unpleasant frown. Was he dreaming? If he was, Lucy couldn't imagine that it was something pleasant.

The Animus was acting strangely with him in a way that she had never seen before. It had been used with other subjects before Desmond, many of them, and there had never been the slightest hitch besides the Bleeding Effect. The unfortunate side effect wasn't due to an error in the machine though; it was due to the fragile thing that was the human mind. Something about this strange young boy and the circumstances that led him to activate the machine must have caused a glitch in the programming – some abnormality that Lucy couldn't explain.

Dr. Vidic expressed his supreme displeasure about the situation, fired a good portion of the security staff which he held responsible, and hired a cleanup crew to fix the mess in the main lobby before explaining that the boy might be interacting with the memory that the Animus had uploaded. Interacting with it – as in a third person experience.

Lucy found the entire idea hard to believe seeing as the memory was just a series of proteins and nucleotide bases found in Desmond's DNA – so in theory the boy should be experiencing his own ancestor's memory. The boy wasn't Desmond, so there was no possible way that he was re-living the memory in the way the other subjects had. This stranger wouldn't wake up as Altair. And unfortunately, because of that, there was no data to help Lucy figure out what was happening inside the boy's head.

Lucy had wanted to take him out of the Animus as quickly as possible, but Dr. Vidic demanded that the boy be left untouched. The cruel bastard. "This was all his fault in the first place," Dr. Vidic had said – "if the boy hadn't have found my pen, he wouldn't have ended up in such a dire situation." Dire indeed - Lucy wasn't one to be pessimistic, but it was unlikely that the boy would leave this experience unscathed, or even alive for that matter.

When he did wake up, would Abstergo just allow him to leave? Just let him go on his merry way as if nothing happened? Fat chance. Abstergo had never been a merciful organization and loose ends were always removed in a neat and orderly fashion. It was almost certain that the blonde haired boy would be put to death for his accidental discovery, and it seemed that Dr. Vidic had sentenced 'death for scientific experimentation.'

Just who was this boy that he wandered into the Animus lab of all places? Abstergo Industries was a massive building, with many hundreds of rooms. Lucy knew that he was too young to be an assassin as she was one herself, but was he a spy from some third organization? It was doubtful, for the boy lacked the physical appearance of a trained person. He was lean, but didn't have an athletic build. While Lucy was sure the boy could be horribly fast when he wanted to be (for he had the long lanky body type often seen with runners) he didn't seem to have a higher purpose. In that case, he was just an extraordinarily unlucky boy.

"The Animus is malfunctioning. We can't risk putting Desmond back on it until its working properly. If we lose him, we lose our only link to his ancestor's memories," The doctor was unfeeling and stoic, but… he was right. Lucy hated to admit it, but Dr. Vidic was never stupid. There was cool logic in his words, "Use him to test the Animus, we don't _need_ him. Make it work Lucy."

So as Lucy typed away on the keyboard staring at the endless flow of coded numbers after Dr. Vidic left, she began talking to the boy. "You must be so frightened," She whispered, talking to herself more than the unresponsive boy, "there's no way that you have any idea what's going on."

The blonde boy flinched suddenly, as if he was recoiling from something nasty.

"I wish I could tell you that it isn't real," Lucy tried to find the glitch in the coding of the Animus, but the machine was acting sluggish and odd. Though the mainframe seemed to be functioning properly, something was definitely… off about things. It might just have been her imagination, but it was almost like the Animus didn't want to her to figure out what was going on.

Without warning, the boy flinched violently, rolling his head in the opposite direction that it had been facing like troubled patients did while in bed. His lithe body was tense, and Lucy heard his breath pick up.

What was going on in his head?

* * *

**Author Notes:** Yikes! It took me a while to post this didn't it? I apologize for the shortness of this chapter, but I can assure you that the next one will be significantly longer. As a rule of thumb, chapters set in modern times will be a little shorter - but don't worry! There's a method to my madness :)

So... lemme know what you think?


	4. Installation

…_Installation…_

As Roi felt himself being carried deeper and deeper into the massive stone building, he became painfully aware of the lack of technology surrounding him. There were no light bulbs, no telephones, or even glass in the few windows that lined the stone walls. Even more than that, his two captors didn't seem to have any guns on their person, but only the crude swords and daggers strapped to their cloaks. Everything seemed too medieval to him, and Roi found himself wondering if they even knew what electricity was.

Passing through a richly lit room, Roi glanced at the many shelves that lined the walls. Upon them, there were a countless number of rolled up scrolls each with a yellow tinge to their paper. There was even an elderly man reading one by torch light, and from the short glance he had, Roi could tell that the scroll was hand written.

Although Roi could think of several places where the influence of technology wasn't huge - like Antarctica, Africa, and rural Asia – this new location was beginning to push it. It was unnerving that he couldn't taste the smog in the air, or head the low rumble of a high way. The sight of a plane or helicopter in the sky would have been comforting, but Roi was getting the feeling that the sky was the domain of the birds here. Even the most basic luxuries seemed to be absent though; Roi was yet to see another person wearing a pair of Levi's or flip flops.

Slowly it was sinking in that the question 'Where am I?' was becoming less relevant to the situation.

After climbing up a short flight of stairs, Altair dropped his charge onto the ground without worrying about being gentle. Roi felt himself toppling off the assassin's shoulder, and managed to latch onto the stone railing at his side before his head crashed into the floor. Though his legs still felt useless after the long day's ride on horse, Roi's mouth was ready to fly at a moment's notice. "Bastard!" Roi growled as he hauled himself up, using the railing heavily to support his own weight.

Basim snickered, his eyes twinkling with amusement, "Oh Altair, you've caught a live one…"

The assassin made no sign that he heard either of them, and instead made a slight bow in the other direction, "Master," Basim, no longer laughing, mimicked the gesture.

Roi looked up ahead and saw another man, this time an elderly looking one. He was wearing rich dark robes, and there was a thick grey beard on his chin. The blonde teen had the sudden urge to call him gramps or some otherwise insulting name for a geriatric, but the cold look on the man's features stopped him. No, Roi didn't think that this one was the type to mess with.

"Altair," The bearded man said as he rose from his sitting position at a long wooden desk, "I trust that you've completed your mission?"

Altair straightened out from his bow, "The merchant king called Abu'l Nuqoud is dead." Then, Roi watched in silent fascination as he pulled out a long white feather from the inside of his cloak. What had surprised him was not the gesture, but the fact that the feather was covered in the rusty red color of dried blood. Was that some kind of proof?

"Good," The elderly man seemed pleased, "another rank and piece of equipment are restored to you. Altair, you are one step closer to redeeming yourself." He walked towards them and down from the platform his desk was stationed on, "Basim, I am surprised to see you back. Trouble in Damascus?"

"Indeed Master Al Mualim," Basim shrugged, "of the witness sort." His brown eyes traveled over to glance at Roi before turning back to the elderly man. "He caused quite the disturbance in the streets alerting the guards to our presence."

"Why did you not lose him back in the city?" The bearded man asked, not fully understanding the situation. Even so, he didn't seem pleased that some child had been brought before him. "And why is he dressed in such a disgraceful manner?"

"He recognized that I was an assassin." Altair explained quickly, "I thought easiest to silence him with the blade although the Creed prevented me due to his lack of years. I bring him before you so that you may pass judgment on him." Roi felt the assassin's cold glare even through the white hood. Oh, it was almost palpable how much the assassin must have hated him. Roi scowled back, _The feeling's mutual jackass._

"How?" The elderly man asked, anger showing in his features, "How did this happen?"

"Well it's not everyday you see a heavily armed man hiding out in a haystack." Roi snapped.

Almost as soon as the words had left his mouth, Roi wished that he hadn't spoken. All three sets of eyes were pinned on him in an unrelenting manner. Though he was grossly outnumbered, Roi found the guts to glare back at them – defiant as ever.

Altair spoke up, his voice annoyed, "I do not find him to be of sound mind, and he does not possess the ability to control his own tongue." The assassin paused, "Perhaps we should cut it out."

"Hey!" Roi protested, wishing that he could stand up straight; He didn't like how the three other men towered above him with ease while he had to cling to some railing to even stand remotely straight without his legs screaming in pain.

"He came into my hiding place as he was also trying to avoid the guards," Altair continued, ignoring Roi, "and attacked me with a poorly crafted knife. The fool is incompetent with a blade as he is with dressing himself." The assassin gestured at Roi's now bare feet, "He even threw his shoes, if one could even go so far as to call them that."

"We thought it best that you decide his fate Master Al Mualim." Basim added in.

The elderly man before them was silent for a long moment. "Altair, I am pleased that you are heeding the creed. Children cannot be held responsible for their actions…"

"I'm not a child!" Roi snapped.

"…though I can see the obvious temptation of ending his life." The elderly man paused again, "I shall call a meeting with the other masters of our brotherhood to decide what will be done with him as this is an… interesting case. It is rare that children become involved in our actions." He waved his hand in the direction of a large archway, "I'll have a servant watch over him while we discuss this matter."

"Screw this; I'm not going to sit around while you old bags have some chat."

The elderly man moved much more quickly than someone his age should have been able to and backhanded the blonde across the side of his face; the force of the blow sending Roi to his knees. There was a deep set scowl on the bearded man's wrinkled features, showing that he was unused to such defiance. "If you know what is in your best interest boy, you will learn to control that tongue of yours before I agree with Altair and have him slice it off."

That was enough to silence the ruffled the teenager. For the moment anyway. Truthfully, he was in shock. While teachers and figures of authority had threatened him with punishments before over the years – You're grounded! Detention! – this physical aspect of it was new. Back home, physical threats, no matter how minor, almost always turned out to be a full-blown, thousand dollar lawsuit, so it was rare that one said something of that nature. Here though, circumstances seemed to be different though.

Immediately after the older man was finished speaking, Roi watched a simple clothed male servant walk over towards them with his head bowed. The man wore light tanned clothing, and simple hide shoes on his feet, much unlike the high quality clothing of the assassins and their master. The servant reached out and grabbed Roi's shoulder tightly, "Come with me then boy."

Roi yanked his shoulder away, not wanting to be touched. Still, Altair gave him a warning glare, and Roi had no doubts in his mind that the assassin would have no qualms about knocking him out once again. Shakily, he followed the servant out of the large room and into a torch lit hallway. Roi had to bite his tongue to make sure he didn't say anything out of line as his face couldn't handle another blow.

After a long and rather demeaning trek down several corridors, Roi and the servant reached a large room with several wooden tables and chairs. In the center of the chamber, there was a fire pit where the coals glowed warm orange as the flames died down, and there was an entrance way to a small room on the far wall. There were two more servants in similar dress as the first scuttling about the room picking up scraps of food and wiping up puddles of spilled drink. Despite obvious differences in décor, Roi could tell when he was in a cafeteria. It probably came from going to one almost everyday at school.

"Cease your gawking and sit," The servant mumbled as he pushed the boy into a wooden seat.

Roi got the feeling that the servant wasn't too pleased he got stuck babysitting.

The servant walked into the small room on the opposite side of the chamber and returned a moment later with a small bowl in his hands. Roi watched silently as the servant dropped the bowl down on the wooden table before Roi in a way that spilled much of its contents before trudging away to chat with the others cleaning up. Hm, some babysitter he was. Either the servant wanted nothing do with his blonde charge, or he thought the teen to be too stupid to do anything harmful. "Probably a little bit of both," Roi muttered to himself, shaking his head and frowning a little.

With mild curiosity, Roi poked the earthenware bowl with his finger. There was some sort of brown broth in it and what Roi thought to be hunks of meat. It smelled oddly spicy, and instantly made the blonde teen think of the ethic district in the city where all the vendors sold various types of food. His stomach churned at the thought of eating it though, despite the fact that he was starving. So with a tired look on his face, Roi pushed the meal away and slumped in his seat.

Out of the corner of his eyes, the teen watched as the man who was supposed to be supervising him inching farther and farther away. Roi frowned; was he really that offending to a around? As far as he could remember, Roi didn't think that he insulted the man. Not yet anyway. Leaning back, Roi maneuvered the chair so that it was balancing on its back two legs while his own two feet rested on the edge of the table before him. Any teacher or adult would have cried out something about falling or acting his age by now, but the servant said nothing and even turned his back on the teen.

Good; the man wasn't watching. Roi smirked – bad things happened what someone wasn't watching him…

Taking advantage of the fact that his would-be 'supervisor' was occupied chatting with some other servant across the room, Roi slunk out of his chair and towards the corridor he entered from, stepping lightly so that his feet wouldn't make a sound as they hit the floor. Admittedly, this was easier to do without his shoes, not that Roi would ever thank the assassin from before for that… Remembering his way out of this stone building wouldn't be that hard. Right? Hoping that escaping the stronghold would be the same as escaping his high school, Roi moved through the halls quickly, crouching a little as he went and ducking his head beneath the few windows that he passed. It wouldn't be long before the servant realized he was gone sadly, and then that damn assassin would probably come looking for him.

Making several turns that he _thought_ where right, Roi found himself face to face with something he didn't remember. An intersection of four halls.

Roi grumbled, so far he was having a bad start to this whole 'escape' idea. Already he was lost in the stronghold, and by now it was likely that the servant noticed his absence. Mumbling curses to himself, Roi looked down each of the halls to his side. There were no windows to give him a clue, and only the occasional tapestry tacked to the stone walls. Not wanting to waste any more time, Roi went with the hall on his right at a quick pace. "Just like running in the halls as school…" Roi found himself thinking.

The hall ended at a spiraling staircase, and from behind him Roi could hear voices.

"Which way did he go!?"

Cursing to himself again Roi picked up the pace and sprinted up the stairs skipping every other step as he did so. He must have ascended at least one floor when Roi found himself face to face with a guard. It was easy to tell that the man was a guard because he was wearing thick armor and there was a sword on his hip. When the man saw the panicked blonde, the sword was quickly drawn though.

"Who are you!?" The man demanded in a thick Arabic accent, body tense and ready to attack at a moment's notice.

The voices coming from behind were steadily coming closer, and Roi knew that he couldn't afford to be caught here. Taking advantage of the fact that the guard was on a higher step, Roi reached out and grabbed the man's ankle. Yanking it in such a way that the guard lost his balance, Roi pressed himself up against the wall and winced as he heard the man clatter down the stone steps. When the sound of his armor smacking against the steps stopped, Roi could swear that he heard a moan of pain escape the man's lips, but there was no time to stay and check what happened to him.

Running up the remaining stairs, Roi found himself in what looked like a library for the room was filled with scrolls. Not spending the time to check out his surroundings more, Roi's eyes landed on a wide window. Rejoicing for a short moment because there was no glass, Roi immediately ran over and thrust his head out to look at his surroundings.

The window was about two stories up off the ground, and down below the stronghold Roi could see a small village. There were tall rock formations surrounding the entire area, creating a fantastic natural defense system, but it also made it likely that Roi would have to climb his way to an escape. Immediately down below there was a small alcove of stone within a fenced ring. On the sides, Roi could make out several dummies made of hay with painted circles on what could only be assumed as vital areas. _Is that some sort of training area?_ Roi wondered, leaving his eyes to rest there for another short moment.

In the distance, echoing down the halls, the teen heard another cry of "Where is he?! The boy has escaped!" and Roi was pulled back out of his daydreams. Finding an escape was his priority.

Looking up, Roi found a thin ledge on the side of the building. Biting his lower lip, the teen tried to convince himself that he could do it. It was just like back home in the city… only there was no fire escape... or railing… or… No! He could do this!

Roi could hear voices in the stairwell and knew that he didn't have the time to debate the stupidity of his actions. Throwing sanity to the wind, Roi pulled himself out of the window and up onto that thin stone ledge. Roi gulped and plastered his back against the stone wall; the ledge back home was at least a foot thicker. Slowly – oh so slowly – he moved across the ledge towards one of the rock formations he saw earlier. Maybe he'd be able to latch onto that and climb his way down…

The wind whipped his hair around and it got in his eyes, making it difficult to see. Roi swore in his head several times, certain that he was going to topple off the ledge and die. _What a way to go!_ His mind groaned; another stab at his newfound courage. The reality of what he was actually doing was beginning to sink in, and Roi could feel the waves of panic begin to rise. "Breathe," Roi reminded himself, squeezing his eyes shut for only a brief moment.

Slowly… Slowly… He couldn't afford to mess up now – the ground was so far away beneath him and the sharp rocks wouldn't offer a soft landing if the teen slipped.

When Roi had moved little more than ten feet, he found himself beside window, only this second one was a great many times larger than the first. It would be impossible to get to the ledge on the other side as the space between was much too large. Pausing only for a short moment to regain his balance, Roi heard the faint voices from within. His eyes narrowed, the voices sounded like distorted mumbling from where he was perched. Carefully, Roi leaned to the side and peeked into the window to see what was going on inside.

It was that bearded man from before! But he wasn't alone, Roi saw two new men, but both were equally old as the first.

"…It's pointless to keep him around. We can't afford to have some insane child running about when we're in the middle of a war!" One of the old bags snapped to another.

"But he's a child! The creed forbids harming him!"

Roi knew that they were talking about him, and glared at the old man that suggested to kill him. _Things aren't looking good_, Roi noted, the tips of his fingers digging into the rock wall at his back. At this rate, he'd have his head on a stick somewhere by tomorrow morning. Biting his lower lip, Roi let out a shaky breath of air and leaned in again towards the window, tempting the gods of gravity once again, eager to hear his fate.

It was without warning that Roi felt something lunge out and grab onto his already destroyed grey hoodie. Roi found himself yanked in through the window by his neck and he collided with the floor once again. "Ungh!" Roi groaned, for he and the stones below were becoming well acquainted with one another. Some level of his subconscious was quite pleased to be back on solid ground now instead of a thin ledge with a fatal fall, and let out a little victory cheer inside his head.

There were a pair of boots before his eyes, made of worn leather with several buckles holding hidden knives, and upon glancing up to see who was wearing said boots, Roi wasn't surprised to find the half-hooded face of Altair glowering back down at him. Fantastic. _Why won't he just leave me alone…?_ Roi winced, knowing that the other's presence meant that things were going to be rough and possibly painful.

Roi must have bit the inside of his mouth when he fell because he could taste his own blood on his tongue, and spat some of it out onto the floor so he could speak. "…Bastard…" he hissed. Lifting himself up slowly, Roi yelped out in surprise when one of the boots before him planted itself on his back and kept him pinned against the stones below.

The three old men were surprised to see the boy appear in the room, but Roi noticed a strange glint in the bearded man's eyes. Was he pleased? _He's probably just planning how he's going to kill me now,_ Roi thought, gritting his teeth in an attempt to remain quiet.

Al Mualim was the first to speak, "Here is the boy in question. It seems that he gave the servants the slip." He shook his head and stoked his beard, pondering on how to punish the servant later on.

It was then that the door to the room opened and from his awkward position on the floor Roi saw the guard from the staircase being carried in by two servants. One of which was the one who was supposed to be watching him. The guard's left leg was bent at an odd angle, and the poor man's face was tight with pain.

"What happened?" Al Mualim demanded.

"_He_ happened!" The guard with the broken leg cried out as he pointed to the boy on the ground.

One of the servants rustled nervously, their hands fidgeting a little, "He escaped and attacked Mazin on the eastern stair."

"How is his leg?"

"Broken, Master Al Mualim." The second servant said in a soft and almost nervous voice, "In a strange spot as well; it will not heal well." The message was clear – the broken leg would prevent Mazin from ever being an effective guard.

Al Mualim sighed, "It seems we are down a man then. We cannot afford to slack the slightest in such difficult times." He stroked his beard as he thought, "I think it best that the boy stay and work until Mazin heals. He will work with the servants and do simple tasks, and will need constant supervision. This is a stronghold of assassins! We cannot have children running about the place wreaking havoc."

"What! You - " Roi would have loved to shout more in protest, but Altair's boot made itself known again by stomping down on his back a second time. Glaring upwards, Roi shouldn't have been surprised to see a slight smirk on the assassin's sharp features. Oh yes, the jackass was most certainly enjoying this.

"Al Mualim, do you think that wise? To allow this stranger to stay among us? He could be in league with our enemies…" One of the elderly men asked, making a disapproving look at the boy in question, taking in the odd hair color and clothing. Roi assumed that this hadn't been a stellar first impression, but did it really warrant all of the dirty looks?

"He will do more harm than good!" The other man said, stomping one of his feet against the floor, "The fool cannot even dress himself."

"Hey - " Roi tried to protest again, but the grinding of Altair's heel into his spine convinced him otherwise. Damn that assassin.

"If he is truly that inept then he cannot be such a threat." Al Mualim reasoned, waving off all other protests with his hand. "Escort him to one of one of the servant's rooms Altair, I'll trust you to lock the door and windows; we can't afford any more would-be escapes now."

Roi could only exhale a relieved breath of air as Altair's boot removed itself from his back, although the pain remained. _Ow_. Before he could think up a snappy retort though, Altair's claw like hand shot out and grabbed him by the shoulder, turning to drag the boy out of the room and back out into the hall. "Try to escape and I will kill you," Altair growled, his voice rough and harsh, "so by all means, try to get away. I would like nothing more than ending you."

Roi struggled a little in the other's grip as he was hauled across the floor, "Yeah yeah yeah," a deep scowl settled in his young face, "Shut up Darth Vader."

And somewhere, Basim was smiling. "Ah, the beginning of a beautiful friendship."

* * *

**Author's Note: **So here it is - chapter 4! As promised, this one is longer than the last. This one was a bit difficult to write, so any critique on it would be much appreciated. I admit that this chapter was a little bit clunky and redundant... but mer; I'm working on it.

Questions!

1.) Anyone too OOC?

2.) Too many OC's?

3.) Boxers or briefs?


	5. Downloading

…_Downloading…_

There was a set of fresh clothing on his cot. Roi eyed the linens with a wary blue eye, leaning against the far stone wall with his arms crossed against his waist, savoring what was left of his grey hoodie while he had the chance. The blood stains had become stiff in the fabric, the bullet holes had become ragged, and Altair's fingers had stretched the collar to a weird angle. "You seen better days old friend," Roi mumbled, pulling his shoulders up and snuggling his chin into what was left of the soft material. To wear what he was currently sporting was out of the question – there were too many tears and holes. At this rate, the clothes would fall off and the blonde would soon be naked.

With a begrudging sigh, Roi pushed off from the stone wall and stood, slowly pulling off his hoodie and exposing his pale skin to the cool night air. Despite the sweltering heat of the morning, the night was chilly due to wind, and goose bumps had already begun to form. With the added incentive of warming up, Roi got out of his clothes eagerly, making a pile of his jeans and jacket. With a distasteful scowl, the teen had noticed a lack of… undergarments… and had thus decided to keep his plaid boxers. His feet were still bare, as it seemed his captors had decided against giving the teen some new shoes to replace the old ones that Altair had thrown away back into the city. _They probably want me barefoot so I won't run away_, Roi thought;_ the sands and rocks out there would tear my feet up._

There was mirror in the room, but Roi already knew what he looked like. "A loser." The fit was all wrong – the linen shirt and pants too big on his frame – with loose strands of fabric and signs of wear. He looking little better than a servant boy, what was left of Roi's resolve was fading away. The white and silver skyscrapers seemed farther and farther away now, more like a dream than reality, and sandy rock and brick villages had begun to take over. Leaning against the window, Roi sighed, doubting that he'd ever get back home to his dear city.

Lost in thought, the teen didn't hear the bolted wooden door to the small room open. Basim, head still wrapped up so that only his ever-amused eyes showed, "Are we dreaming of escape?" he asked, surely smirking behind the mask as usual. "How did you sleep?" The informant asked, noticing the dark bags of unrest under the blue eyes. The slumped posture and overall haggard appearance spoke of a night spent with eyes open and tossing about.

Roi whipped around in surprise, eyes wide and feral as his body tensed, ready to defend himself should he have to. "No!" he snapped without thinking, only to see that it was Basim, and not Altair. The teen relaxed fractionally, though his shoulders and arms remained stiff, "…at least not now." Blue eyes glanced back at the window, recalling last night's events. Altair had thrown him into the room none to gently, threatening that an escape attempt was death. Needless to say, the last thing that Roi wanted to do was listen to the annoying assassin.

So late in the night when Roi had been sure that all in the fortress had fallen asleep, the teen had set to work. The window was small, but just small enough for someone of his size to squeeze through and get onto the thin ledge that ran the length of the building, so Roi had planned to drop through the window onto the ledge, scooting his way along until he reached some of the surrounding rocks and boulders so that he could climb down to safety. The teen popped his head out of the window and was about to pull himself out when - -

The throwing knife was small, a designed to fly through the air with great accuracy. Roi didn't have the time to blink as he ducked his head down, only just managing to avoid the sharp blade's fatal blow. The knife embedded itself in the stone, lodged in a tight crack, so set in its place that Roi was sure no one would be able to pull it out.

Needless to say, the teen stayed in his room after that.

"Oh stop scowling," Basim chuckled, brown eyes travelling to rest on the stone window frame, "Few, if any, can escape Altair when he's on watch." The assassin had perched himself outside the boy's room, laying in wait for the right moment… Altair had been telling the truth that he would try and kill the boy should he attempt an escape. "It is time for you to earn your keep anyway," the informant gestured to the boy's new clothing; "Those and your meals won't be free."

"Whatever." Roi scowled as he crossed his arms across his chest, posture tight and rigid. Just because he had to listen to this guy didn't mean that he had to like him. Or even respect him with a proper answer. Roi's stomach grumbled, showing its need to be filled. The blonde knew that if he wanted to eat he'd have to do what he was told. Roi wondered what sort of work he'd be doing though; things around here were so low tech that Roi knew it would be out of the question to get a desk job. Physical labor, here I come. Following the turbaned man's lead, Roi followed Basim out into the halls and down several long staircases.

"What is your name boy?"

Roi bit the inside of his cheek as he looked the other way, "We're not that friendly."

Basim nodded, noting the defiant spark in the other's personality. This boy was a prideful one, and just because he'd been battered around by strangers didn't mean that he'd given up. If anything, Basim knew that the boy was only biding his time until a possible escape route made itself known. Smart boy. "Very well," the informant nodded, leading the teen into a large room filled with shelves of scrolls. The floor was heavily caked with dust and dirt. A mop and bucket sat innocently in the center.

"You're to clean - -"

Roi cut the man off walking forward, "I get it." There was no need to explain the task – it was obvious enough already. Clean the damn room and mop the floor; like one of the janitors back at his high school. The blonde picked up the mop, holding it with two hands as he looked over the room. It was a big chamber, with large double doors on both far ends. With all the grime that had built up over the years it had probably never been cleaned… "Are you going to help me?" He asked, turning back to the informant.

"We are not that friendly." Basim replied, inclining his head forward in a bow and then leaving the teen to his work.

The blonde shook his head and set to work, unsure of how to proceed. Back home, robots had always done the cleaning around the house and on the floor particularly. There was a vacuum model that would scoot around on the carpets and tiles of the kitchen and bedrooms throughout the day, perpetually sucking up scraps, crumbs, and trash. Roi had never had to mop before – it seemed too medieval to even consider. Even so, he dunked the cloth end into the bucket, saturating it well before bringing down to the floor and sloshing the water around. _Get clean dammit_ Roi scowled, seeing little progress.

It was going to be a long day.

Work was slow; mindless. Dunk, push, push. Dunk, push, and push… endlessly. It was brain numbing. Despite the lack of mental stimulation though, Roi pushed through. It was no worse than history class really – and the teen knew he could stand up with that. He had for months, right? Slipping into a state of semi-consciousness, Roi finished the room, the flat stones on the floor clean and dirt free. Roi shook his head; _if I wasn't so pissed about doing work, I might be pleased with myself._

Approaching caught Roi's attention then. Head whipping around to watch the two double doors open, Roi was surprised when they revealed… a boy of his own age. He wasn't a servant as Roi first thought him to be – his clothes were far better than his own, with leather boots, straps, and arm braces. He looked like a little copy of that damn assassin Altair really; Like Barbie and her little sister Kelly in a weird sort of way. Blue eyes that had held a hopeful and friendly look turned angry and narrow though when Roi saw what the other teen had brought with him though. Dirt. A entire freaking cloud of dirt which they spread around all over the room as he walked inside, stomping his boots a little to get rid of whatever but of debris had stuck to the soles.

"What the hell!" Roi snapped, one hand clutching he mop while the other balled a fist at his side. Lips tight in a scowl and hair falling into his face, Roi stared the other down. "I just cleaned this!"

The teen was tall and athletic, lean muscles visible on his arms, and he stopped dead in his tracks upon hearing the blonde's outburst. He turned slowly, putting a hand on his hip and narrowing his eyes as he looked the blonde over, "Are you speaking to me?" He cocked his head to the side, locks of coal black hair framing his tanned face, a smirk on his sharp features. "For your sake, I hope not."

"Yeah, I'm talking to you." Roi put the mop back into the bucket with a rough motion, water sloshing over the sides and onto the floor, "See any other jerks around here? I just cleaned this place you go and mess it up!"

The taller teen's smirk never faltered, "Aren't you the cocky one?" He walked closer, circling the blonde with a hard stare as he looked him over. Calculating. Intimidating. "I would watch my tongue if I were you. You're a foreigner. A servant. Know your place a refrain from ordering me around."

"Who the hell do you think you are?" Roi bit up, taking a step towards the other so that they were standing almost chest to chest. Admittedly, Roi was the shorter of the two, but his skull was too thick to even consider backing down anyway. Prideful and irrational – ah, the typical teenager.

"An apprentice. And therefore," the other growled, pushing Roi back against one of the shelves and pinning him there with his hands above his head, the motion knocking several of the paper scrolls down to the floor where they unraveled, "your superior. I'll do whatever I please." An impish smirk on his face, the black haired male even went so far as to kick over Roi's bucket, the water ruining several of the scrolls that had fallen to the floor.

Roi struggled against the other's grip, teeth gritting together in a primal snarl, "Get. Off!" Without warning he struck, remembering how it was to live back in the city, where the prospect of being mugged in some back alley was still very fresh, and the blonde's knee shot up, smashing into the other's stomach. "Don't mess with me."

The other gasped, stumbling back with wide eyes. The brat had attacked him! That stupid… blonde… _servant_! "You're dead," he wheezed, straightening himself out, a killer look in his brown eyes. The apprentice was no longer amused with the strange foreigner, and like a switch, the he had been switched on. The apprentice balled his hand into a fist, pulling his arm back before swinging at Roi's pretty little blonde head.

Dodge ball. That was the first thing that Roi thought off as he saw he punch rocketing towards his face. So, with his mind set in gym class, the blonde ducked to the side, the tanned fist of the apprentice whizzing past his ear and smacking into the wooden shelf. The shelf rattled and fell over because of the blow, more scrolls flying off and clattering down onto the floor.

"…_Dead_," the apprentice hissed, straightening up to his full height once again. "Fast one aren't you?" The apprentice sneered, looming over the blonde with a menacing air about him.

This was steadily going downhill, and Roi knew it. Pinned back against the shelves with nowhere to go was not the best place fight, and the blonde knew that. Scraps in school hallways had taught him that, and they also taught him that sometimes it was best to get away and get payback later. Preferably with a black sharpie or water gun. Roi gathered his bearing and slipped to the side, planning on getting out of the other's range as fast as he could.

"Not fast enough Goldie," the other chuckled, arm snapping out to grab Roi's wrist and yank him back, "Think that you can just run off like that an escape me?" Using the blonde's momentum against him, the apprentice threw the other to the ground, following with a sharp kick to his side, "You're mine now." As punishment for his outspokenness, the apprentice proceeded to pummel the blonde, kicking him in the chest and sides, even his head. "Come on Goldie," he egged on between each side of his boot, "ask me to stop."

Roi bit his lip and pulled his legs up closer to his chest – as if the fetal position could possibly help him in a situation like this – biting the inside of his cheek so that he couldn't cry out. _It hurt_. Roi winced at each blow, hands flat at the floor by his sides as he tried to lift himself back up, fingertips digging into the stones.

"Ask me to stop!"

Another sharp kick to his sides and another muted yelp of pain. "S-screw you," Roi spat, flicking the other off with the middle finger. There was so much pain – it hurt to breathe – and the blonde wondered if a rib had been broken inside his chest. The rumbles in school had hurt too, but as Roi compared them to this… perhaps school wasn't so bad after all. The apprentice... he was good at this sort of thing. Really good at fighting and easily better than Roi or any other one of the punks back home could ever hope to be. _I'm not surprised though_, Roi winced at another kick to his already sore side, _this is what he's trained to do after all…_

"You bore me," the other stated with a simple finality. The cat had finished toying with its mouse. The sound of the dagger scraping against the side of its sheath was a familiar one, even for one living in the modern city, knives were a popular threat. "It's time we shut that mouth of yours forever, yes?" With that the apprentice crouched down, holding the edge of the knife up against Roi's neck, about to –

"Enough," a commanding voice ordered, freezing both the apprentice and Roi who was trying to wriggle his way out of the other's grasp even in his beaten state. Blue eyes snapped over onto the one who had surprised them both – it was that old man from before. _What was his name…?_

"Master Al Mualim," the other breathed, pulling the dagger back, slipping it back in its sheath, and standing up. A soldier at attention. "I… did not know that you were here."

"I have been watching." The elderly man replied, a faraway look in his eyes as he looked down to the floor at Roi's prone form. "Sayyid, your time is better spent training on your skills instead of beating up those who are weaker than you. Go, practice your swordsmanship." With that, Al Mualim gestured to the exit of the room a silent order for the other to leave.

"Yes Master Al Mualim," the other responded, bowing forward in respect for his leader and elder. The apprentice, Sayyid, glared down at the blonde at his feet, his message clear: _I am not finished with you_. In silence, with a stiff expression on his tan face, the apprentice strode from the room and back outside into the glaring sun and sand.

Roi hacked up some blood onto the stones, ignoring the fact that he had just cleaned that floor for several hours, "I don't need your help old man."

"I didn't do it to help you. I did it as a lesson for him." The elderly assassin replied, slipping his gnarled hand back into the elegant robes that he wore, "One of our tenets is to stay your blade from innocent flesh, thus him killing you would break that." Old eyes peered down at the broken boy on the floor as Roi pulled himself up into a shaky sitting position, leaning back against a shelf to hold himself steady, "Did you ever learn to fight boy?"

Roi chuckled, the action actually hurting his chest and making him wince once again, "I thought this was obvious. Of course not. I just got the snot beaten out of me." Sure, he knew how to throw a punch and kick but the apprentice, Sayyid, had known specific techniques. He was in a whole other league.

"You are by far the worst fighter I have seen in my many years," the older man observed, never once moving to help the bleeding boy out, "Did your father not teach you how?"

Roi's gaze lifted from the floor and the blood splats that had fallen there, and onto Al Mualim's face, his eyes hard and unwelcoming. Like ice. That was off limits.

"…I see." The old assassin was sizing the boy up. Sure, he was by far the most unlikely candidate, but with training…" Al Mualim gestured to the sullied floor, "I leave you to finish your work. When you finish a meal will be waiting in your room." With his part said, Al Mualim strode out of the room and through the opposite set of double doors, out into a large garden.

The blonde had to hold onto the shelf he had been leaning against as he pulled himself up from the floor, legs shaky, chest filled with shots of pain that ran down his spine. Sayyid had done quite the number on him, Roi decided as he wiped the blood off his lips with the back of his hand. And all for what? The floor was a mess again. Roi glanced over at the mop and sighed, knowing that he was going to become very well acquainted with it that night.

_ _ _ _ _

"That took way too long," Roi mumbled to himself as he limped through the halls and painstakingly up the stairs back to his room. His body felt like it had been thrown in a sack of rocks and shaken around. Black and angry blue bruises were visible on each wrist, and more were hidden beneath the linen of his shirt; reminders of his encounter with Sayyid. Now, every muscle in his body cried out for sleep. Demanding it. It was dark outside now as the sun had long since set, and the other servants had already finished their chores, eaten, and returned to their beds to rest for the coming tomorrow.

Pale hand pushing against the wooden door of the room he'd been given, the blonde teen limped inside, the small cot that waited there the only thing on his mind. However, Roi should have known better than to hope for that much with his track record.

Basim stood inside the room, waiting for him, "I had wondered if I would be waiting here for you until morning," the informer teased, amusement clear in his voice. "I see that Sayyid gave you his version of welcome."

Roi groaned, all thoughts of sleep and rest leaving his mind in an instant. Basim's presence could only mean more trouble. "Sure. Welcome; let's go with that."

"It would be wise not to anger him with orders," the informant mused aloud, "he is among one of our best apprentices." All knew of the coal black haired boy and his achievements – Sayyid was a force to be reckoned with. "So you are lucky that your situation is about to change."

"What?"

Basim shrugged, "It is not my place to say. Come, Master Al Mualim demands your presence." The informant gestured back to the door, and led the teen back into the halls.

Roi had spent more times wandering around in hallways than he had sleeping or eating; his body felt it too. Exhaustion was claiming him moment by moment, and what had remained of Roi's snappy attitude was dissipating due to fatigue. Blue eyes sized up the taller male, taking in the tan strip of skin that was visible on his hidden face. Basim knew something that he didn't. "You're up to something,"

Basim let out a snicker, an attempt to avoid full out laughing, "No, no, not me. Not even I could have pulled this off so wonderfully. You did this yourself."The informant wished that he could take the credit for what was about to happen, that he had planned it all, but the gods seemed to have a sense of irony. Oh it was just too perfect…

The informant and the ruffled teen entered Al Mualim's chambers. Or office. Roi imagined himself in some sort of medieval high school, with this old gnarled man as his principal, Basim as one of those hallway monitors, and Altair as the sadistic math teacher. Pfft. As if the assassin could do math. But here, standing before the impressive wooden desk, Roi found himself remembering detentions long passed…

Altair's mouth was pursed into a tight line in an attempt to hold his own tongue, his fingers itched to grab something and just squeeze the living daylights out of it. _This_ was not supposed to have happen. "No. I refuse." He snapped, words aimed at Al Mualim who was taking the entire situation with stride. Send floods, send plagues, send Templars even, as Altair knew that he could handle those; anything but the blonde brat.

"You, Altair, are in no position to be refusing me. Or should I take away one of the ranks you have just earned back?" A clear warning and one that the elderly man could easily follow through with. "Think of it as another task which you must complete to redeem yourself."

"_I will not have him_." Altair spat, fury evident in his voice. The assassin's own storm grey eyes pinned themselves on the boy's weary, trying to strike him down mentally. He would fight this, the boy was only trouble. Foreign. Irrational. Prideful. Altair knew that the teen would only bring harm to the brotherhood in the end; it was best to snuff out a spark before it set everything around it on fire, burning all to the ground.

Roi looked around, a nervous look on his face, "What's going on?"

"Your fate's been decided boy."

"I refuse to have him!"

The blonde bit his lower lip, the heavy tension in the air beginning to affect him. Something was off, and even the teenager could tell. "What do you mean 'decided'?" Roi gestured to a stray broom in the corner of the chamber, "I thought I was supposed to be your little servant boy." Whatever was 'decided', Roi could tell, was going to be many times worse, as Basim was glowing with amusement even still.

"I have decided to kill two birds with one stone," Al Mualim explained, walking back towards his desk and the two shelves that flanked it on each side. There, on one of them, was a wooden birdcage with two messenger pigeons inside. "Not only will a new hand be trained to defend out fortress, but Altair will have a lesson patience. A much needed one."

"…What?" This wasn't making sense, and Roi was beginning to panic. What was going on?!

Hm, not a very bright boy is he? Al Mualim gestured a hand towards Altair who stood off to the side, looking as it he might break something at any given moment without any sort of warning, "Altair is going to take you as one of his novices. Train you in our ways -"

"Al Mualim," Altair interrupted, "Why him of all? The boy shows no promise, no talent." The assassin recalled his first encounter with the blonde heathen back in the city – how the brat had almost gotten them killed. "He will never become a cow herd, much less an assassin."

"Whoa," Roi put his hands up in protest, eyes wide with horror, "whoa, I want nothing to do with this!" Suddenly the mop was looking more and more appealing.

"It has nothing to do with what you want boy," Al Mualim said, eyes hard. This was a business, and had nothing to do with what people wanted; it was just about who had the most power. "From this point forward, Altair is going to be your master. You would do well to heed his word and my own should you want to remain in one piece.

The teen almost rolled his eyes, _As if I was in one piece now anyway?_ "No. Gallons upon gallons of no." Roi brushed several locks of wild blonde hair out of his face and behind his ear, "I'm out. I can't take anymore of this." Roi turned on his heels and strode out of the room, ignoring Al Mualim's order to return. There was a set limit for how much any single person could take, and Roi had reached it. He wanted to go _home_. Enough of this crazy assassin, desert, 10,000 BC crap.

No sooner had he entered the corridor and began to walk towards his room though, did Roi feel a familiar hand clamp down on his shoulder, holding him in place. "You will not disrespect me boy," a voice hissed from behind; Altair. "I like this little more than you do. Do _not_ make me want to harm you more than I already do." The assassin couldn't afford to displease Al Mualim anymore than he already had in fear of a rank being stripped away.

Far too tired and sore to protest anymore, Roi settled on an unhappy glare. Maybe if he was a horrible novice assassin, Al Mualim would let him off the hook and return to being a simple servant. Hopefully. If he was lucky that is… "Whatever man."

The boy's odd words were irking Altair to no end, and though the bruised blonde had submitted – for now – Altair could see that the road ahead would be long and difficult. Altair had never cared much for children, and it seemed as if the teen had never much cared for adults. Wonderful; they were already of to a great start in their relationship.

Things could only go downhill from here.


	6. System Failure

… _System Failure…_

It had been 24 hours now, and the longest any subject had ever been inside the Animus. Though subject was the wrong term, Lucy had decided; the boy was just unlucky. Wrong place, wrong time. That didn't even cover it – just plain unlucky people didn't end up in situations as dire as these.

"Who's the kid?" a voice from behind Lucy's shoulder asked; a curious tone to it. The scientist didn't jump or even bat an eyelash in surprise – she had known he was there. With Dr. Vidic out, she had opened the locked metal door of Desmond's confines to let him out and stretch his legs. More than that though, his company was appreciated, even if she never said it out loud.

Lucky shook her head in frustration, "That's the question Desmond." As of yet, there was no name to put to the young face, or at least an official one. What was official though, was that staying in the Animus for this period of time was unhealthy. A doctor had been called in earlier to fit the boy up with an IV drip to provide the necessary fluids and nutrients that he'd need. Lucy only wondered if it would be enough…

Desmond stuck his hands into his pockets, taking in the odd visage before him. The kid was pale, blonde hair splaying around his head and eyes closed, though they would occasionally move as if he was dreaming. Is that what everyone looked like when they were inside the Animus? There were IV drips and needle's sticking into the boy at strange angles, the Animus adding to the scene, making it look something like some weird hospital. Only the kid wasn't going to get any treatment that would save his life; only things to prolong it.

"Poor guy," Desmond muttered, sitting on the edge of the silver machine and facing towards Lucy who was still typing away on her keyboard, "Vidic says he's expendable, right? Do… do we have any ideas as to who he is?" The bartender asked, settling a hand on either side of his body to brace himself against the Animus. "I mean, what if he's totally innocent?"

The constant clacking of Lucy's typing paused for a short moment, "No, we have no idea who he is yet but we're working on it." A sigh of regret escaped her lips, "And it doesn't matter if he's innocent or not, he's… he's company property now. The theory is, if something goes wrong, its better to him than you. You're important, we _need_ you." Lucy didn't look convinced by the theory, but it was the only way to rationalize what was going on.

Desmond remained silent, a troubled expression on his face. _Am I just company property as well then?_

Dr. Vidic had set forth to researched just who the unlucky kid was. It was no small mystery as the why the Animus was functioning the way it was, and he lead scientist of Abstergo hated mysteries. Despite the use of a super computer and public records though, nothing had come up about the unlucky boy. Dr. Vidic was as stubborn as they came though, so if anyone was going to find anything, it would be him before anyone else.

"I've been calling him Desdemona," She said out of the blue, breaking the silence in the antiseptic clean room, voice echoing off the cool metal walls and windows.

"…Seems like an odd name if you ask me." The bartender replied, looking back over to the blonde boy's face. "Why not Alan or Matt or… well something more normal?"

The scientist sighed, "It seemed to fit him. It means 'ill-fated', and it doesn't seem like he's going to get out of this…" She didn't want to finish, it would be like putting the last nails into the boy's coffin. Dr. Vidic would use him and use him until there was nothing left but a husk that once shelled a human mind. The boy would wither away and be forgotten. A tool that got dull and was cast aside.

"Alive," Desmond finished it for her, his voice quavering a little as he spoke, "You think he's going to die here."

"He is. We don't need him like we need you Desmond, so… him being here is convenient. We can test the bugs out on him." It was horrible to say, like taking a sticky sweet medicine that a doctor had prescribed. Just as Lucy had spoken the truth, the medicine burned on its way down. She stopped her typing and work all together, looking up at Desmond, "At least that's what Dr. Vidic keeps telling me."

"So what happens to me when we find the location of the Piece of Eden?" Desmond asked suddenly, eyes pleading, "The same thing?" He and the kid – Desdemona or whatever – were in the same boat it seemed; and the Titanic was sinking.

Lucy couldn't answer him. Desmond was her priority – not the boy in the Animus – so she couldn't step out of line to save him; Lucy couldn't expose herself for someone who wasn't Desmond. After all, Dr. Vidic was right: The boy was expendable. He was being forsaken by both sides of the brewing war, both assassin and templar alike, and no one seemed to care. There would always be casualties… but it still hurt.

"Fine." Desmond muttered, put off and annoyed by her lack of response. Did she not care? Not at all! He couldn't take it. Shoving his hands deep within his jean pockets, the bartender slipped off of the silver machine and stomped back over to his room, the metal door sliding shut behind him. The lock clicked into place, but Desmond found that he didn't want to leave the room anyway.

Meanwhile, in another antiseptic white and steel laboratory in the building, Dr. Vidic was conducting research. Going through missing persons reports and various profiles, he was hoping to find out just who this kid was. So far, the rather unlucky bastard was still a mystery. "I hate mysteries…" Vidic growled as he continued to type.

* * *

**Author Notes!**

So. I've been away from this story for too long, and now I've finally updated haha. Anyway, another shall be soon, I promise.

As always, critique is very much appreciated!


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